Caught in the Tide
by xiluvrock145
Summary: A short one-shot about Finnick Odair and Annie Cresta, home in District 4, spending an evening together several years after Annie's Games. My first Finnick/Annie paring fanfic; enjoy!


**A/N: All right, before you say anything and you start reading this story, I want you to know that I'm not talented at writing romance. Seriously, it's just too difficult to describe, at least for me. I applaud authors on FanFiction who are able to write a good romance story, without getting too mushy. *cough* HalfHope - Sing For Me *cough***

**Another thing. To be honest, I wasn't that big into the whole Finnick/Annie pairing, even after I reread CF, because honestly their story didn't stand out much to me. But with some fine-tuning and use of imagination, as well as being inspired by some other Finnick/Annie stories, I came up with this one-shot that I hope you will enjoy.**

**The time this story takes place is unsettled. I picture it to be several years after Annie's Games (70), but before Katniss and Peeta's Games (74). I have no idea why I like writing about pre-Games events so much. Nearly all my fics are about the past.**

**Yes, I know some grammar is wrong when Annie is talking. It's supposed to be like that. It's how I picture her talking sometimes. Oh, and I liked writing about the water, because I live in Florida and I live less than 10 miles from the beach. Although District 4 is on a lake, so . . . but I also live near a lake, which we go kayaking on sometimes.**

**Wow, that was a long author's note. Now I'm rambling, so at this point I will shut up so you can read my story. Enjoy! :)**

* * *

Caught in the Tide - A Finnick/Annie One-Shot

Water. It's what keeps most of us sane here. Well, at least as sane as possible.

Everyone in District Four literally lives on the water. We were born near the lake, grew up on its shores. The smell of the tide fills our nostrils no matter where we travel here.

The water is also what keeps us alive.

Annie, in particular. The water kept _her_ alive.

Of course, she was not the same after returning. No one really ever is. But Annie, my dear Annie. She was and still is an exceptional case.

The doctors said she wouldn't live. They said to us that eventually she would drive herself mad with insanity, at all the horror that she witnessed. They said she would pose as a threat to herself as well as others. They even suggested we spare her the pain of that and let her die peacefully in the Capitol. We said no. Mags, Amrita, Evan, and all the other victors from Four, including me. Especially me. I would not let the Capitol take her away again, this time for good.

Fortunately, they let us go. They fixed up Annie and sent her back home, and she's been here ever since. Of course, she still comes with us to the Capitol every year for the Games, but there is enough of us that she doesn't have to be a mentor. She's more like a kind young mother to the tributes. She wishes them well and tells them not to worry.

You wouldn't be able to tell all she's been through if you were to look at her now. We're on the lake, paddling gently through the clear waves, relaxing before nighttime. The stars are beginning to come out and Annie is admiring them, pointing out particular ones that form different shapes as we row onward.

"That one is a bear. Oh, and that one looks like a crab! I like crabs, don't you? They're so cute."

There is a peaceful smile that lingers on her face as she continues murmuring about the stars. Her long chocolate-colored hair shines in the thin crescent moon, and she occasionally trails her fingers in the water, absentmindedly leaving fading ripples behind us.

It's times like these that I forget that we're both victors of the Hunger Games. I forget that the Capitol and its threats still loom over us like dark storm clouds. I forget that anything else on earth exists other than me and Annie, gliding along in our canoe on the lake, watching the stars.

"Yes, Annie, the stars are beautiful tonight," I say, unable to keep the small smile out of my voice.

"Mmm," she says, nodding to show that she agrees with me.

We paddle along for a little while more, and Annie is silent for a while as the sun disappears deeper behind the horizon. She stares straight ahead at a spot in the water and appears to be thinking about something.

"Finnick," she suddenly says, breaking her small reverie of star constellations. "They both gone. Where'd they go? Where'd they go, Finn?"

Her voice starts out calm and trivially worried, but eventually it rises into an echoing screech across the lake.

I quickly let go of the oars and reach forward to wrap my arms around Annie's shoulders, trying to calm down a panic attack before it starts. "Where'd who go?"

"Coral. And Benny. Where did Coral and Benny go? Where are they?"

My eyes widen in shock, and I let go of Annie slowly. "They're dead, Annie. They're gone."

Annie shrieks and nearly tips over the canoe while she fidgets in her seat. "No! Finnick, no! Why?"

I let out a sigh. "I don't . . . they just are, Annie."

Annie begins to bawl, heaving forward with each sob she lets out. "Coral! Benny! No, come back!"

"There, there, let it out. Shh, it's alright, it's not your fault, darling," I say, trying to comfort her. "Shh, it's not your fault."

"My fault," she insists. "All my fault, Finn. Is all my fault."

This is one of the things about Annie. She seems to forget everything about the past within seconds but then she brings it back up at the worst possible time. Even a single imperfection with her surroundings can remind her of anything.

Coral Reifsnyder and Benny Amends were the tributes from our district last year. They were sweet little children, one sixteen and the other fifteen. Just a few years younger than Annie herself. It broke my heart to see them shamelessly killed in the arena. No, _murdered. _They were _murdered_ by the others. For some reason, it upset Annie just as badly. She always grows attached to everything, then has an emotional breakdown when they leave her.

"Why they do this, Finn?" she whispers in the dark. "Why they kill us? Why?"

I don't respond. The truth is, we try to hold everything back from Annie, to protect her, we say. I don't see how lying to her is protecting her, though. And although Annie may be a little unstable at times, she's not stupid. I'm pretty sure she knows the truth.

"You know why," I finally say, setting my paddles back down to give her a hug. "You know, Annie."

"I know," she whimpers, nodding. "But . . . but I don't like it. Don't like it, Finn."

Her words bring tears to my eyes. No one like it. No one except those monsters in the Capitol. The same monsters who almost killed my Annie. _Twice. _Once when she was reaped into the Games, and one after she won.

We're nearing the end of our canoe ride. The sky is pitch black now and I can tell it's past nine at the earliest. But I don't want to return Annie home like this. She's still staring in the sky, probably remembering how the faces of the dead tributes appeared there when she was in the Games a few years ago.

We arrive at the dock in silence. Annie helps me tie up the canoe, and together we start the short walk to the Victor's Village. Halfway there, she begins to relax as the quiet night slowly soothes her tired brain. I slip my hand into hers and she grasps it like a life preserver. I run my finger though my hair nervously, hoping that by now she's forgotten the pain of the boat conversation.

By the time we reach Annie's house at the far end of the Village, she's practically asleep. I'm basically carrying her because otherwise she wouldn't be able to walk. I laugh as I gently shake her awake, taking care not to startle her.

"We're home, Annie."

She opens her eyes wearily. "Already?"

"Yes," I say with a grin. "Go on. It's almost ten."

She nods and turns to walk up the steps to her porch, but turns back at the last second and smiles brightly at me. "Thank you for the boat ride, Finn. It was fun. Thank you."

She unexpectedly wraps her arms around my waist and murmurs thank you once more. Surprised, I hug her back and smile to myself. When she pulls away, I lean down and kiss her forehead.

"Good night, Annie. I love you."

"Night, Finn. Love you too."

I watch as she enters her house and waves goodbye to me once more before she shuts the door. When I'm positive she's gone, I turn around and walk over to my house, several houses down from Annie's.

I worry about her all the time. I worry about what might happen if the Capitol was right and she did go mad with the horror and hurt herself or others. I worry about how that might, in turn, effect me.

Instead of greeting my family and wishing them good night, I turn up the stairs and walk over to my room on the second floor, which has a spectacularly clear view of the lake.

I walk over to the full length window on the wall and stare out at the lake. There's no one left on the waters anymore. Everyone's probably either sleeping or working on something important. At this hour, everyone's definitely sleeping.

I stare out at the tide as the waves pull out and back in on the shore. Each little grain of sand on the beach is clinging to the ground for dear life, as if to prevent being swept back into the water.

That's how I feel about Annie. Annie is one of those grains of sand. She's gripping onto the shore of sanity, verging on the edge to stability. She's so vulnerable and defenseless against the world; she doesn't know what is out there to get her.

She's like a shell caught in the tide, passing by life as delicately as she can, flexible and changeable with each turn of events.


End file.
